


Faithless

by vinetini



Category: Fire Emblem Heroes, Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Drabble, I don't know what the hell this is apart from indulgent garbage, Kiran loves bad decisions, M/M, Unhealthy Dynamics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-23
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2019-03-23 00:00:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13775391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vinetini/pseuds/vinetini
Summary: Kiran may or may not have a slight attraction to his newest... 'Hero', despite all last shreds of his common sense and logic screaming at him.





	1. Chapter 1

Even when he was younger and only just grappling with his orientation, Kiran had always had a thing for the bad boys. He always got way too invested in the villains, the antagonists, the anti-heroes of any fictional media he consumed. Gods, he can still remember crying his eyes out at 2am because the villain in his favorite book had been killed, despite his villainy being the damn point of the whole novel! Not that he approved of people killing or town pillaging of course, but... gods help him, he had a weakness for danger.

After falling into Askr, a kingdom that reminded him of those old fantasy novels he loved to read, the type of 'characters' he had loved started becoming real people. Being the Summoner came with many responsibilities yes, but perks as well. It started with Michalis, one of the first GHB units he had defeated and freed from Veronica's grasp . Brilliant fiery hair and a stormy expression to match, Kiran couldn't help but get closer to the ambitious former King. Every cruel word made Kiran shiver; every dark look made his heart race. It wasn't healthy OR smart, considering he'd seen how quickly the redhead could execute someone- but he wanted more and more of the other's presence. As the two grew closer and understood each other a little more, the occasional compliments or soft words Michalis sent his way were unbearably exciting. Kiran was almost glad when he and several other fliers volunteered to do a long-term espionage against Muspell for a month; the man's heady presence was intoxicating and Kiran was going to do something he regretted if he spent a minute more in it. 

Even more problematic was their repeated meeting with the Masked Man; he had a knack of showing up when the Order of Heroes did, but offered very little information about himself initially. Though they now knew his true name and allegiance, it was hard to truly say whether he could defeat his cursed blood or not. Kiran wondered whether a cure could be found in Nifl. He also wondered how a mage managed to have such...impressive muscles and whether or not he had a thing for guys in masks. Perhaps he was a little too happy to run into the handsome enigma, even when they had been enemies. 

Still, as frustrated as he could get with own mind, he never acted on them. Michalis was beautiful and less cruel than he liked to appear, but the man was not currently suited to anything more than Kiran's support, burdened by guilt and ambition both. And Bruno and Kiran were far too busy with possible cures to even explore the strange tension between them. Throw his younger sister wanting to kill Kiran into the mix and things get a tad complicated. 

It was better this way, right? He could admire them from afar and they would never indulge his unsavory thoughts. 

The biggest problem came later.

* * *

 

Bloody red eyes. Sharp canines glinting dangerously in the light. A body that twisted in unnatural ways, a smile that split a face open, long spider-like hands that promised pain and punishment.

"So... what exactly are you going to do with me, _Summoner?_ "

Kiran swallows.

Upon discovering he could in fact, wrangle a literal demonic dragon from Veronica's control and use him for the Order of Heroes instead, Kiran probably should have been thinking about implementing safety measures or writing up strict guidelines for the dragon to follow. 

All he CAN think about was that said demonic dragon's voice was one of the most unfairly attractive things he's ever heard.

He mentally slaps himself, trying to focus. The dragon's gaze was locked on him, reminiscent of a bird of prey eyeing a tasty looking rat. Despite having just being summoned successfully at the Summoning Ruins, Grima looks more than ready to take control of the Summoner instead. His superficial attraction to the other gives way almost instantly to fear - this one is not to be trifled with. He swallows, finding courage. 

"Let's make this clear; you're not going to be attacking any fellow Order of Heroes members. ESPECIALLY anyone from Ylisse" he states, thinking of their horrified faces upon seeing the twisted body of the tactician.

"However, in the case that you don't harm any of your colleagues, you may use whatever methods you wish against our foes" he finishes, trying not to think of what that entailed.

Grima's mouth turns downward, annoyed.

"Colleagues? Mere _worms_ are not my equals" he spits, disdainful.

"Well, they are now. Whether you like it or not, you're a fellow member of the Order".

Grima sneers, malice dancing in his eyes.

"Oh, come now. We all know you only summoned me because you couldn't bear that whelp of a Princess to hold my power, or to let me use it without hindrance".

The dragon takes a step forward, snapping Kiran to attention. Grima in his human form was quite short and yet Kiran felt as if the man (half-man?) was towering over him. 

"You can feel it, can't you? The sheer power I wield. You wanted a _taste_ of it" Grima murmurs and by the gods, Kiran should be focusing on the threat behind his words instead of the absolutely sinful way Grima's tongue had curled around the word taste.

There's a silence between them. His gut was clenching - in fear, in anticipation? 

Grima moves a step forward.

Kiran's fingers feel numb. 

"Pay me the respect I am due, and I promise you a painless death when I am freed once more" breathed Grima, foul yet enticing breath washing over the Summoner's face. A smug smile on his face at Kiran's captivated expression, Grima turns to leave. A trail of faint, dark miasma smelling strongly of oil follows the dragon out of the ruins, staining the white scenery.

There's a chill at the back of his neck that doesn't go away for hours after the encounter.

 

* * *

 

"Kiran, are you sure keeping that _thing_ here is wise?"

Kiran sighs at Leo's disgusted tone, watching the other's eyebrows pinch unhappily over his eyes. He had several Heroes he often came to for advice on certain subjects, such as Virion and Leo, but today the young prince had come to him in his own study looking perturbed. 

"I hear you, Leo. I know exactly what he's capable of, but that's exactly it! Letting him loose or worse, allowing him to ally with Muspell or Embla would be tantamount to suicide" he replies, fingers fidgeting unhappily at the horrible thought of Surtr and Grima working together. 

"I think you're in over your head. I am a Prince from a country of darkness and even I can barely stand his presence when he goes all out. The battlefield looks like a slaughterhouse by the end of his rampage" Leo frowns, mouth set and arms crossed.

"Again, better them than us" Kiran winces, imagining the carnage.

Leo snickers and shakes his head.

"That's not very heroic for the Order of Heroes, is it?"

"No... but he's in Zenith whether we like it or not. Better under our watch and free to kill enemies of the kingdom than free to do as he pleases" Kiran counters, running a tired hand through his hair.

Leo opens his mouth only to stop mid-word, brow furrowed. Wordlessly, he turns around and opens the door inward to Kiran's study.

Grima's unrepentant, grinning face comes into view, causing Kiran to nearly yelp and Leo to stagger back, only to catch himself on a nearby desk.

"D-didn't anyone tell you it's rude to eavesdrop?" Leo remarks smoothly, trying to act unruffled by the predatory smile present on the twisted dragon's face.

"Etiquette is for posturing and posing, useless human pleasantries. That's more fitting for wretched little princes like you, isn't it?" Grima rasps, grinning.

Kiran spies blood on the man's right sleeve. Seems the latest mission went... successfully.

"Unless you're going to be doing anything about the issue we discussed, I shall take my leave" Leo says curtly, eyeing Grima with great distrust.

The dragon grins back at him. It's not a nice smile.

Kiran almost wants to beg Leo to stay, because being alone with Grima in a small space is inviting disaster- but before he can invent a reasonable excuse to keep the prince back, Leo sweeps out of the room past where Grima is lounging against the door, looking far too smug. Kiran is fervently glad for the protection being a Summoner grants him.

"Well... it's just you and I, Summoner. Perhaps you would like one of your inane battle reports?"

What Kiran would like is not be here right now, but he swallows and steels himself.

"All right, then. How was it?"

Grima pushes off the door and stalks forward, his casual gait at odds with the burning intensity in his eyes.

"I killed them all. Not a single one escaped" he says softly, a sick smile on his lips.

Gods, but Kiran feels bad for whichever enemy soldiers that had the misfortune to encounter the twisted soul on a mission.

"That is what you wanted, was it not? Aren't you joyful?" Grima continued, tone coy as he looked up at Kiran through his lashes.

His stomach is churning again.

"If... if this war could be solved without violence, I would do anything for that to be a reality. I find it hard to be joyful over some common soldier's death forced by Embla or Muspell to fight" Kiran replies equally as softly, posture tense.

Grima laughs, slow and deep.

"That's almost... cute. You really feel that way about those pathetic little worms, don't you? How droll" he purred.

He moves closer. Kiran's heart is in his throat. 

"What do you want, Summoner? What do you REALLY want?" 

His voice is commanding.

"I want... peace. Happiness for the people of Zenith" 

Grima laughs scornfully again, eyes searing into the Summoner's own.

"Useless human platitudes. Tell me... did you come up with that little motto all by yourself?"

Closer.

"Tell me. You can tell me what your heart truly desires".

Kiran can't say anything. His hands clench uselessly. He's half-disgusted with himself at being so enraptured with this sick, demonic creature. And yet, the other half is lost in the crimson gaze of the other.

He can't say anything, but the answer is plain on his face.

Grima smirks, victorious and alluring.

"A summoner you may be... _but I will own you soon enough_ " Grima whispers, running one long, spindly finger down Kiran's face.

Before he can shove it away, or move closer, or do SOMETHING (and gods knows what he would do), Grima moves away. 

 

* * *

While Kiran heard bits and pieces floating around of Grima's bloodlust in battle, he doesn't truly see the dragon in battle until quite a few weeks later. He does his best to deal with the other - both his furious moods and alluring teases in equal measure. He may be pathetically attracted to the heady influence of the dragon, but he won't let himself be ensnared that easily, or so he tells himself. Ironically, he was captured by something else entirely. 

There had been a trap laid of Emblan design during a skirmish; Kiran had been separated from the others before he could fully even realise what had happened. Bound, gagged and thrown unceremoniously into the back of a carriage behind old sacks and weapon crates, he could scarcely look around.

He was currently breathing through his nose, trying not to vomit at the smell of old, cloying blood not far from where he had been carelessly dumped. He knew little, only that he was to be taken to Veronica which was as good a death sentence as any. He heard the wheels starting to turn somewhere beneath him and his stomach dropped- once the carriage started to move, only some of his finest cavalry or fliers could catch up to them now. Had they even started to notice where he had gone?

The sound of wheels stopped; confused, he raised his head as far as he could. He heard mutterings from his Emblan captors, before one of them let out a yell.

The screams started.

A noise unlike any other ripped through the air - a pure thrum of energy that made his ears ring and the hair on his skin stand up. He shoves his head down, breathing through his nose heavily and praying he would survive whatever horrible thing was currently happening outside. The smell of burnt flesh assaulted him.

He heard footsteps, something being thrown open in front of him, and then-

"Are you still concious?"

Kiran was never so happy to hear the low tone of Grima's voice. He makes a noise as best he could, watching the boots of the other approach him.

There was a flash of magic against the ropes binding him and they fell apart. Kiran looks up and nearly gasps.

Grima is captivating and disgusting in equal measure. The dark miasma swirls around him furiously. His eyes are burning crimson, alight with anger. He has blood and stains all over his coat, but doesn't seem to care at all. Crimson runs down his arm.

"H-how much blood did you spill to get to me?" he asks, mouth open in disbelief.

'Not enough" Grima growls and before he can even react, the dragon's mouth is on his.

He's being kissed.

Kiran reacts in shock, eyes wide open. His brain seems to have stopped working entirely- he can barely comprehend what is happening. Grima pulls back, eyes wicked.

"If you let yourself be snatched like this again and put both of our lives in danger, I WILL have to punish you" Grima ordered, leaning in to nip at the other's lip.

Kiran absently feels the small drop of blood trail down his chin. He nods weakly, not trusting himself to do anything more.

Satisfied, Grima pulls him to his feet.

"You're only alive due to my own machinations I had put in place. I was expecting treachery... those useless 'Order of Heroes' whelps can't even protect their own summoner" Grima mutters, leading him out into the night air.

"...Thank you for saving me from harm" Kiran says, completely sincere despite feeling more than overwhelmed.

Grima huffs, seemingly uninterested in his words. Kiran can tell the other is secretly a little relieved, though. 

He thinks. He thinks about the fact that this twisted sick creature is responsible for saving his life. He thinks about his undeniable attraction to someone who effortlessly killed what seems like 10 people in the span of a minute.

He thinks that he wants to be kissed again, then wants to slap himself at the thought.

Grima takes his hand possessively and leads him away from the clearing. His hand is warm through the glove, still half-human despite it all.

Kiran makes a point not to look at the countless bodies strewn around the area. He can smell them well enough.

 

 


	2. A Gift, for You

"You humans truly do confuse me."

"Hmm?" Kiran responded, brows furrowed.

Grima's mouth tightened. 

"The name of that boy with the green hair, carrying that WRETCHED sword... what name does he hold?"

"Oh, King Alm from Valentia?" Kiran said, eyebrow raising at the dragon's tone.

"He feels so... familiar. Him and the woman, Celica he called her."

Kiran stayed silent, watching a mix of confusion and irritation play across the dragon's face.

"As I was watching them to try and ascertain why their appearances resonated with me, he gave her a handful of flowers."

"Oh, yeah they're a couple and all" Kiran said, curious as to where this was going.

"I know that! Why give something that grows on the side of the road? What significance do flowers have as symbols in human culture?" Grima questioned, eyes suddenly boring into Kiran's.

"I don't particularly know actually. I guess we give them because they're pretty? It's a sign of goodwill to someone you appreciate" he shrugged, feeling vaguely uncomfortable with the other's stare.

"Gems and jewellery are pretty while also having value tied to them. And you don't even know?" 

"I...I really don't" Kiran replied, helplessly confused.

Grima sighed, frustrated. He had a most un-dragon like pout on his face.

"You humans do things without even knowing why. Just because other humans tell you to" the dragon said slowly, contemplative.

"I guess we do. When you're young you take cues from others and society, at least until we're older." he replied, still feeling unclear as to what this had to do with flowers.

He had a feeling they were talking about something completely different, now; something of much more importance.

"I don't understand. You humans do things because others do them, whether you know why or not?"

"Well, you wouldn't understand I suppose. You're not truly human and you can't truly think like someone raised as one".

Something flashed in Grima's eyes, taking Kiran aback. Was that  _hurt_ he had just seen? Had... he just managed to somehow hurt the feelings of a powerful demonic dragon? 

"That is clear, at least" Grima huffed, something dark in his tone.

He turned to leave.

"Wait, Grima-"

"Unless you have battle orders to give, I have no more time to waste on you, human."

Kiran watched him stalk off, beyond confused. He'd said something wrong to get the 'human' treatment, but he wasn't sure exactly what he'd done to gain the dragon's contempt. He sighed and put his head in his hands; talking to Grima could be like tap dancing in a field full of land mines. Still... he could have handled that a little better. Grima was clearly asking about more than Alm and Celica... but what did he really mean? 

* * *

Grima stormed into his room, slamming the door shut and not particularly caring who heard it. He glared hatefully at the small collection of flowers he had scavenged together on his side table.

"Pathetic human didn't deserve them anyway..." he hissed, refusing to acknowledge the strange feeling in his chest.

He grabbed the bunches roughly, no longer caring if they bent or broke. Snarling, he set them all ablaze.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TFW you try to learn a custom to appease your fave human but he thinks you're just being weird
> 
> People were so nice leaving all sorts of comments and kudos on chapter 1, so here's a small extra chapter! Grima hasn't quite gotten the hang of human romance that doesn't relate to the physical and "I'll kill anyone who hurts you" aspects.


	3. Moonlight

Grima cursed, rubbing his eyes and staring blearily up at the ceiling of his room. He'd woken up from another dream; if he could even call it that. While Grima did have the weaknesses of his frail body needing rest, he slept for far less than the average human and even more aggravating; all his dreams seemed to be that _tactician's_ memories. He grumbled, rolling onto his back in the darkness. They were strange dreams; just glimpses of the past. Yet Grima could feel that person's emotions so clearly; the fondness they felt for every one of their 'shepherds'. Even stronger were the feelings of memories regarding that blasted Exalt and his daughter, as that tactician's heart filled with warmth upon seeing them. Every memory of those with that wretched bloodline were clearly dear to Robin; there was no doubt that this was the emotion called love. He scoffed, quietly; a load of good that 'love' did him.

Still, the emotion was not so as foreign to him as it was; he could recall a similar fondness in his breast upon seeing his Summoner. It was hardly love, as Grima doubted he could ever feel such a useless emotion... and yet, he was pleased upon seeing the summoner during the day, and displeased when they were injured or not paying him any attention.

Truly strange, indeed.

Even more strange was the nights when he dreamt of himself through that tactician's eyes. His love for the Exalt and his daughter could not last; it ended with Him. It always did. Grima had never felt guilty about it previously and yet as of late, the idea that the tactician's bond towards the two would be severed violently by himself made him feel a tad uneasy. 

Hissing under his breath, he pulled himself out of bed. There was no use in pondering over such useless memories and he was clearly going mad if he felt any remorse towards that pathetic tactician. Deciding to seek some fresh air, he opened the door to his room and walked towards the grounds. He shoved his coats and boots on haphazardly (and the fact he thought of it as _his_ coat was also alarming).  Some solitude and fresh air would do him good, as well as helping to dispel those unpleasant images in his mind. He hardly pushed deep into the grounds (he preferred to be away from most as often as possible) when he spotted a figure in the moonlight.

It was Kiran.

They cut a lonely figure in the cold night's air; a brilliant white coat amongst the dark black and green of the Askran grounds. Curiosity overcame him as he ventured towards the other, wondering what the usually sound sleeper was doing so late in the night. Kiran must have surely heard his boots crunching on the leaves below, yet did not turn around until the dragon had reached his side, overlooking a small pond. The summoners' eyes seemed to be focused on the still water, stars reflected in the calm pool.

"Something troubling you, Summoner? I can dispose of anyone who is disturbing you" he murmured, red eyes flickering to the other's withdrawn face.

"Ah... it's nothing for you to worry about..." Kiran said, a weary smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Grima scoffed.

"I take plenty of midnight wanderings and I have never seen you before tonight. Something must be perturbing you if you're out of bed at this hour."

Kiran sighed, his bangs falling in front of his eyes. He bit his lip, his eyes seemingly deliberating on what to say.

"Did you know that the Askran calendar and the calendar of my homeland are quite different?" the summoner stated, looking up at the other.

"...No, I did not" Grima replied, unsure of where this was leading to.

"It makes it hard to trace anniversaries and such, when they're so different. I have no idea when my birthday fell on this year, and-"

The summoner swallowed.

"I... I think this is the anniversary of my mother's death. But I can't be sure and I can't visit her grave either. I had dreams all about her this week, but..."

Kiran stopped, sighing. Their breath blew out in a visible gust in the cold.

"That is unfortunate. I never had a parent, so I am uncertain of what to say" Grima admitted, an uneasy feeling gathering in his chest.

"You never...?" Kiran questioned, looking up at him in surprise.

Grima tensed. The stench of Thabes, of dead air haunted him still.

"We are not the same" is all he divulged, lips pressed together.

"I am sure one of your kin would have better fitting words for you. But I am a weaver of death and can do nothing for her, or you" he finished.

Kiran surprisingly looked amused.

"It's the thought that counts. And sometimes silence is nicer anyways, don't you think?"

The summoner turned to look back at the pond, less troubled now. He'd made the other feel better though he had no idea why.

He didn't understand human emotions well. But the feeling that the tactician had for that wretched exalt... they were similar to the ones he felt now, watching the summoner stand in the cold moonlight with a small smile on their chapped lips. The emotions in those memories felt eerily similar in a way his mind had trouble processing. He was not like them; he did not have the disposition or the thoughts of a simple human. He was made for death, to spread death!

And yet... the strange tenderness in his chest had nothing do with the promise of impeding violence or death. It was the fact that his summoner had been unhappy, and that he in turn had solved that unhappiness.

"Is everything alright? I didn't even ask why you were out here, did I?" Kiran asked apologetically, breaking the dragon out of his musings.

Grima pursed his lips.

"I come to wander many nights here; I need not sleep as much as you humans do. But recently, I too have been plagued by dreams. I suppose our situation is... a little similar."

Kiran looked curious, but thankfully didn't ask what types of dreams the dragon was being plagued by. He just pressed to the other a little closer, and shared a secret, shy smile.

The warmth felt pleasant. 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I figured I was done with this fic, but all the lovely comments & my Grima carrying my team through the Tempest Trial made me go for one last addition. This is an angst/fluff combo, with more of the latter this time. Thank you for all your support.

**Author's Note:**

> This is literally just me being thirsty for the Grima I pulled while acknowledging he's 100% terrible. I'm sorry. Feel free to throw trash at me for my very horrible taste and nonsensical pairing.


End file.
